Nice – not so much | Happy Horti

We were prepared for another long day in the car but Mrs Beckam had an extra special kind of hell prepared for us today. The scary thing is we haven’t learnt and are still trusting the choices she’s making for us. To get from Briancon in France to Nice in France we have to cross into Italy and back again. Love these open borders.

The day starts nicely enough and we head over another gorgeous and open pass called the Col d’Izoard, 2360m. A great drive. The strange thing about this day is that all the passes are open and it goes smoothly enough. We roll into a tiny town at lunch time and have a fabulous lunch at Cafe where the waiter tells us he wants to move to Australia and never come back, he just needs a job and a girl. Simples!

Then the day turns to shite. Mrs Bitchface Beckham takes us the scenic route to Nice even though we have clearly programmed in the fastest route. My poor brother, who is doing all the driving has the drive in hell in ahead. Upwards, downwards, upwards, downwards, upwards, downwards, upwards, downwards, upwards, around the most unbelievable death defying curves for about 4 hours. It’s exhausting and I’m just a passenger.

Confession time. I’m meant to be sharing the driving and I’m too chicken. That is lily livered, coward, big girls blouse scared. The car we’ve hired is a big heavy thing with no turning circle. Coupling that with driving on the wrong side of the road on the wrong side of the car in a manual I’ve completely chickened out and left my brother in the hot seat. Pathetic! I know I know I know!!!

So four hours of driving constant hair pin bends in a tank with no turning circle was a tough day for my bro. Too stressed to even take photos which was a shame because the scenery was as usual spectacular. The flowers I did spot (when my eyes weren’t glued to the road in abject terror) reminded me of how clever mother nature is. For the most part the roadsides are red poppies, yellow cytisus, pink somethings and occasionally blue somethings else. In the world of design contrast is the key. Using colours from the opposite spectrum of the colour wheel brings striking results. Most of the winding road was yellow and pink. Two colours you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing together as an outfit BUT fabulous as a plant combo. Sorry no photographic evidence to prove my point, too stressed. Mother knows best as usual.

The good news is we finally saw a Marmot. Actually we saw a whole bunch. From the outset of this drive from Zurich two weeks ago we have been seeing postcards about marmots and I was beginning to believe they were just a marketing ploy. A mythical cute furry animal to bring the people that never delivered. I’ve seen a million signs telling us to watch out for deer too and I’m convinced they don’t exist either. I’m pretty sure they’ve eaten them all. But the marmots are real. I haven’t seen marmot on the menu as the little guys are too fast to even photograph. These cute furries have burrows right next to the road and on this day we frequently spotted them ducking for cover. They look a bit like a cross between a badger, a beaver and meerkat. Pretty damn cute.

NICE
Nice, to be somewhat redundant is really not that nice. Actually it is a bit of a hole. The traffic getting in to town when we finally get off what I now think of as the devil’s road is bumper to bumper. Double parking is rife holding up the traffic flow even more. It’s also a bit dirty and grotty. Not matching up to my visions of the posh French Riviera. Every car is dinged and scratched.The Car Insurance must be hell.

When is a beach not a beach? When it’s Nice.

I don’t know about you but my definition of a beach includes SAND. They don’t have that here. A walk on the beach is more like a bush walk. Rocks, pebbles and stones. I thought of it like a foot massage. Masseur sandals au natural. I hobbled on the cobbles down to the sea and put my feet in the Mediterranean water. Still a bit chilly.

No sand castles here. Just some creative writing instead

How I hope Byron Bay doesn’t end up like this. It’s noisy and soulless.

Our super apartment is a block from the beach which is awesome and across the road from the local drug dealers which is not. Young and loud, they hang on the corner directly opposite my room all day and all night. Completely indiscreet, they have music blaring, yell at each other and have a noisy motor bike coming and going making deliveries and pick ups. I spent the sleepless hours fantasising about different ways to sabotage their motorbike.

Nice tour
To give my brother break a from driving we take the day long hop on hop off bus tour. The Barcelona one was a fantastic way to see that big city and seeing as this is posh Nice in the French Riviera I was expecting more. Not. It was still a great day but it is hard to believe that the Spanish version was way better. The buses are a bit tired and filthy. The Audio guide was broken in no less than five of the seats I sat in. The languages were on random channels on every bus which meant scrolling through until hitting the English jackpot. They were a bit light on with the stops information too making it easy to miss things. Despite that, still worth it. Spectacular views and better than attempting to negotiate the crazy Nice traffic.

Highlights
Olive Tree Park
A city park full of trees that must be more than a hundred years old. They are just an everyday part of life here. It is a busy Sunday and it is full of people picnicking, playing and sport and even a wedding. The trees are so old I just want to scream at them to back away and show some respect for their elders.

Of course I had to hug one

Cemetery – creepy creep
I never want to be buried. This tiny cemetery has some extravagant graves with grieving angels that really gave me the creeps. Mr Garibaldi, the hero of Nice is buried here in one of the least ostentatious graves.

Roman ruins – Ho hum, more exceedingly old roman ruins looking over the city.

Garibaldi plaza
The plaza is lovely but the restaurants are stupidly expensive. We found a cute little thriving alleyway just off the plaza and had lunch under a giant linden tree to the sounds of an accordion. Perfect!

Russian cathedral.
This little piece of Russia is very sparkly indeed. After the Crimean war Russia was banned from the Black Sea and so they negotiated some sort of deal (bribe?) with the leaders of Nice and now there is a large Russian population here and therefore this church. Gold and jewel encrusted wall to wall inside.

ABC Gardens
Not much to say, unremarkable church but great location high above the city and pretty gardens.

Missed
Matisse & Chagall.
Nice is a city of many museums, a week could be spent just artsy fartsing around. In our one day here I only had time to wistfully stand outside the Matisse museum and wave at Chagall’s as we bussed by. But never mind, there was plenty of other beauties to see.